


Cufflinks Do Not Maketh the Man

by Gee_Writes



Series: Skinny Jeans and Khaki [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Friendship/Love, Greenie!Gon, Hipster!Killua, M/M, Male Friendship, Manga Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gee_Writes/pseuds/Gee_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There it was, an invitation to the centenary celebration of the Zoldyck establishment, sitting in his pile of mail.  Despite making it very clear to his father that he was NOT going, this was obviously not something up for debate.</p><p>Just a simple story about an argument, cufflinks, and organic vegetables.<br/>Oh, and how Gon makes Killua's heart beat overtime.  Of course.</p><p>Modern(?) AU where Killua is STILL a rebellious Hipster trust fund brat, and Gon only buys local produce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cufflinks Do Not Maketh the Man

He couldn't believe it.

It was _unbelievable,_ after all.

But there it was, an invitation to the centenary celebration of the Zoldyck establishment, sitting in his pile of mail.  The distinct cursive of his brother's handwriting almost threatening serious repercussion if he chose to ignore it.  It was unusual for Illumi to write or send letters himself, so even if Killua hadn't received a phone call from his father the day before, he would have known this was a big deal.  Despite making it very clear to his father that he was NOT going, this was obviously not something up for debate.  One of the butlers must have delivered it to his door, if the lack of postage stamps was any indication.  Killua wished they had handed it to him in person, rather than stick it in the mail slot and leave - at least then he could have ripped it up before sending the butler away.  He _really_ didn't want to go.

Sighing deeply, he opened the letter; a printed invitation on heavy card stock.  Inside it was just the usual drivel of ' _You have been cordially invited as an honoured guest'_ and _'to thank our backers for a prosperous 100 years'_ and _'we hope the night is a success, and our partnership to continue to grow over the coming years'_.  Blegh.  It had always amused Killua in a sick sort of way at how dishonest invitations were, and the one's put out by his father more so than the rest.  If there was anything Silva Zoldyck believed in, it was that the members of the Zoldyck family were the sole reason for the family name and company being the multibillion jenni empire it was today.  The idea of thanking any of the hundreds of thousands of people who worked for them would be unheard of.  But public decorum was everything when you owned the world, and so things like this were inevitable.

Killua didn't have to like it though.

At the bottom of the card, in Illumi's neat handwriting was _'I will send Gotoh and the car to pick you up.  I look forward to seeing you, Kil.'_  

No getting out of it then. 

Letting out a huge sigh of defeat, Killua tucked the invitation in his pocket.  It was just his luck that Gon chose that moment to make his way from the kitchen, curiosity piqued.

“What's going on?”  Dark brown eyes trying to read the cause for the distain on his friend's face.

“Oh, nothing; I'm going to be busy on the 17th.  Sorry, I'll miss that thing your friend invited us to.”

“I'm sure there'll be another recital Melody'll be in.  It must be important though, this is the first time you've called off our plans.” 

If Killua didn't know better, and hadn't been practically attached at the hip with the guy for the last few weeks, he would have swore Gon was trying to embarrass him.  As it was, he was just incredibly obtuse to the effect his words had on others.  And Killua was burning red.  Again.

“Ah, family stuff.  I don't want to go, but I've been _cordially invited._ ”

“Well, no arguing that,” and with a laugh, Gon hooked his arm around Killua's neck.  It was times like this that made Killua's heart beat in overdrive, and reminded him that he wasn't as alone as he thought.  As if that framed newspaper photograph Gon had given him last week wasn't proof of that.  Or the other proper photographs of them with groups of friends.  Or the ones of just them, together.

This was stupid.  _Stupid._

 

* * *

 

When the 17th rolled around the next week, Killua had never thought it would be this hard.

Gotoh arrived on his doorstep at lunchtime, accompanied by a woman meant to 'doll him up', or as Gotoh corrected, 'make him look presentable'.  Several hours before Killua thought he would arrive, and even more than when the party was set to start.  Or anniversary.  Whatever.  The fact was it was _lunchtime_.  Gon was still here, chomping on stir-fry he had made them both.  He'd just been explaining why the vegetables from the farmer's market were better than the one's at the grocery store, when the sharp rapping started on the door.  Killua needed more time.  Didn't want to send the only person he cared about away, but not wanting him to have to be exposed to any part of his family life, butler or no.  Nor did it help that Gon was looking back at the entry curiously from the couch, bright and happy and _damn it, he didn't want to go._

Swooping past, his former butler looked around the apartment, before saying, “it's changed a lot since I was here last.”  Well, he had to admit, he wasn't wrong.  The apartment _had_ changed a lot in the last six weeks.  Whilst before it was blank walls and clean lines, now comfortable clutter enveloped the room.  Those photographs, and the potted plants.  Everything brought in by Gon to 'liven up the place'.  Not to mention all of _Gon's_ belongings that had found their way here.  The fishing rod they took out to the river last week; those collectable cards some neighbourhood kid had given him; a pile of dirty socks in the corner waiting for the laundry.  And then there was Gon himself, just sitting on the couch whilst munching away on his food.  Gotoh raised an eyebrow, but continued on in silence towards the bedroom.

Oh. _Oh._ And whilst they weren't like that _dammit,_ Gon and he usually shared the bed.  Because the couch wasn't comfortable enough to sleep on.  AND it had been getting colder.  It wasn't Killua's fault Gon had practically moved himself in.  His family weren't likely to believe that though. 

“Young Master, your presence, if you please.”

Giving Gon an apologetic look, he made his way towards the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Is that the boy from the paper?”  Well, straight to the point, as always.

“Yes.  He's a friend.” 

And there went that eyebrow again.

“Your parents were quite alarmed at seeing that, you understand.  You don't need friends that make trouble for you.”

“He doesn't make trouble for me.  He makes trouble for them.”  He hoped the angry spark in his eyes made his point, but he bristled to defend his friend if not.

Luckily, the older man dropped the subject, instead rifling through the wardrobe in search of a dress suit.  Squished right in the back, displaced by half a dozen articles of Gon's clothes, was exactly that.  With a satisfied hum, Gotoh took the articles of clothes, hung them up in preparation and started inspecting the various shoes.

Sensing like it was a good time to retreat, Killua left the butler to his own devices.  Opening the door and slipping out, he was met with Gon chatting up their other intruder.  Finishing up a story about how the two of them had gone on a whale tour at the beginning of the month, Gon looked up and punctuated his sentence with a grin.

And Killua would have felt annoyed, if the fluttering in the base of his stomach hadn't started.

“I was just telling Cutie about how you almost fell overboard.”

“Wow.  Thanks Gon.”

As if taking that as her cue, the much too over-done woman stood and bustled Killua towards the bathroom.  Brandishing hairspray and blow-dryers and scissors, Killua watched and objected helplessly as she tried to neaten up his 'unruly' hair.  When the cosmetics came out though, that was when he started yelling.  Summoned by the commotion, Gotoh let himself in and ended his torture with a stern “I think that will be fine, thank you.”

Never in his life had Killua been happier to see the man.

Of course though, all that followed was being pushed into the bedroom, with sharp instructions to get dressed.  
As well as the suit, a vest, tie, good shoes, nice belt, and even the cufflinks he received as a 16th birthday present were laid out for him to put on.  The whole shebang.

Working quickly, he got himself dressed, slipping into the outfit like it was a different skin.  For all intents and purposes, it was.  Just one night.  Hell, only a few hours and it would be done.  He might not even wear his painful fake smile, see if he could give reason for his parents not to invite him to any more of these things.  He'd get through this, then go home.  Maybe he and Gon could watch that hack-and-slash gore fest he'd rented, or he might even oblige Gon one of his weird nature documentaries as an apology for cancelling their plans and having to deal with _this._   Either way it'd be done with soon enough.

He didn't expect to open the door to arguing.

“What do you mean it's not appropriate for me to be here!  We're friends, I don't NEED a reason!”

“And I'm saying that Young Master Killua _cannot_ be friends with you.  It's what his family has wished.”

“Who cares what his family says!  They're not here!  They should tell me themselves!”

The sheer anger in Gon's voice made him stop.  The scene was like watching a fight between a snake and a mongoose; only one of them would be leaving this.

And Killua knew it wouldn't be Gon.

“Gon, just,” his voice cracked, “just go.  It's not worth it.”  _I'm not worth it._

The look directed at him was so surprised, so angry.  And the betrayal.  That too.

And in that moment, Killua's heart broke.

 

* * *

 

An hour and a half in, and Killua was done.  _Done._ He was going to drink as much as he could from the bar, make a complete idiot of himself, go home, call Gon, and plead for him to forgive him.  Hell, he might make it a night and cry into the pillow on the empty side of the bed.  No point in pretences when your life was as royally fucked as his.

It didn't help that the one family member he actually _liked_ wasn't here either.  Just Illumi watching him like a hawk from his father's side, Milluki seemingly finding the buffet a personal challenge to conquer, and Kalluto, whom hadn't left their mother's side yet.  Dozens of guests milled about, laughing and chatting.  Small talk filling the buzzing room, and fuelling the buzzing in his head.

It wasn't until his grandfather, still sprightly in his old age, came up to him that he even spoke to any of his family.

“You might want to ease up there, boy.  Your father will be calling on you during his speech.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.  Something to look forward to”

“Now Kil, I know you don't want to be here, but tonight's an important night.  At least try to pretend like you're a little happy to see us.”

“Why should I do that?  My life is still being dictated by the family, and I have no control over anything.  At least let me be angry.”

“There's no room for anger in business; you'll come to see soon enough.”

Killua groaned at that.  Why his dad and grandfather had such high hopes for him, he'd never know.

“Where's Alluka?  What'd she do to spare herself this torture?”

“You know perfectly well why he isn't here.  Your brother is at home with Amane.”

Before Killua could argue that, Zeno was called away by a CEO of the largest bank in the world – a steady and long-time business partner.

It was at this point that Illumi found his opportunity.

“Kil!  It's been so long,” stretching his arms out in greeting.  “I heard there was a little scuffle when Gotoh came to pick you up, but it seems to be sorted now.”

Sorted?  Huh?

“Illumi...what does that mean?”  Anger bubbling up for the umpteenth time.

“Why, you cut it off, of course!  It's a good thing too, Mother was very upset when you were in the paper.”

“Too bad she wasn't upset enough for it to do some real damage.  I was hoping her heart might give out.”

“Now now, Kil.  Tonight is very important for you, so you need to be on your best behaviour.”

“What, why?”

“Oops, I thought you knew.  Dad's formally announcing you as his heir.”

And the soft buzzing in his head stopped.  As well as the world around him.  Flashes of being sent home, away from university, away from Gon, and back to his family was too much.  Everything was too much.

“No. **No.**   You are not doing this to me.”  Bile rose up his throat as he choked out the words.  “ _You_ be the heir, you're the first born anyway.”

“Oh Kil, we've had this discussion.  You have much more potential to bring the family to greatness than any of us.”

“I'm going to talk to Dad.  Right.  Now.”

The older Zoldyck let him go, but Killua found it to be a long journey anyway.  Stumbling every few steps, his nerves being worn away by each passing second.  By the time he grabbed his father's arm, it was too late.

“Ah, Killua.  Good.” 

Directing him to the front of the room, a podium stood solitary.  Killua felt like he was about to throw up.  Again.

“No. _Please, Dad. I don't want...I don't want this.  Not now.  Not ever.  I have friends now.  I have **Gon** now.  Please no.  Please._ ”  He strung together everything and anything that made sense.  Desperate in his _need_ to make him understand.

A strong hand on his shoulder made him lift his head.

“You are my son.  That is the only thing that matters.”

Killua felt like crying, like curling up and waiting for the ground to swallow him whole.  He was certain this was Hell.  A fitting punishment for years and years of apathy.  Gon had been his redemption, but he'd fucked that up too.  It was over.  The end.

His father started his speech as he stood beside him, booming voice and strong hand on his back.  Clapping and some flashbulbs going off.  And despite time slowing to a standstill, it was here.  The moment he'd dreaded his entire life.  Had run away to university to escape from.  What a futile effort everything had been.

“As well as marking a wonderful and prosperous century of this family and our endeavours, I would like to make a very important announcement.  Another proud day for the Zoldyck family, and I welcome you, our trusted colleagues,  to celebrate with us.”  He paused for effect.  It worked.  The bated breath of a hundred people in anticipation, every pair of eyes trained on the two at the podium.

“Tonight, I'd like to introduce my son -”

The cry broke through the room, broke through his internal walls, and landed squarely in his chest.  Simultaneously winded and energised, Killua looked towards the sound.  Towards the only thing he cared about.

And then he ran.

Weaving through the shocked crowd and avoiding half a dozen security people, he made it.  Made it.  **Made it.**   And Gon was there waiting, dressed in a cheap suit and his hair combed over weirdly, giving a sorry smile, sorry for everything, which explained probably more than it should of.  And then they were running.  Killua wishing and praying to whatever God he could think of to get them out of there.  To escape together.

And they did.

Because being with Gon caused miracles.

 

* * *

 

The phone call he received the next morning was short and to the point.  Very business-like, very professional.  Whilst not outright disowning him, he would be banned from future events until his behaviour and attitude showed improvement.

He couldn't believe it.

...

It was _perfect._

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, thank you again for reading all the way to the end. It's very much appreciated!
> 
> As the second entry in the Skinny Jeans and Khaki series, this follows Picketing and Picket Fences - although it's not really necessary to read that to understand this.
> 
> Once again, I'd like to thank the wonderful [wartransmission](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wartransmission/pseuds/wartransmission). Her support and encouragement throughout the writing of this has been irreplaceable.
> 
> If you want to leave me a message, or just chat HxH, my tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WritingGee)!


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